


the origin of secrets

by dragonsong (NekoAisu)



Series: FFXIV Minifics [14]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Biting, Blood, Canonical Character Death, Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood Spoilers, Glitch Text, Hallucinations, Introspection, Other, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Stormblood, Psychological Horror, VERY MILD BUT STILL, ZenoHika Week (Final Fantasy XIV), again a very small amount, mild horror elements, no beta we die like a galvus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26161777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/dragonsong
Summary: And sometimes they see him, watching them from inside the mirror, with dulled eyes and blood still dried around his mouth. They wish the memory would have died with him.
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light
Series: FFXIV Minifics [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1336648
Kudos: 15





	the origin of secrets

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING AGAIN FOR:  
> Minor use of glitch text (less than half a sentence)  
> Minor horror elements  
> Stormblood spoilers   
> Ghost/hallucination dead man zenos

There are beasts made of men and men made of beasts. The Warrior of Light looks at themself in the mirror and cannot quite figure out which one they are (or were). They smile, lips pulling back from teeth (somehow predatory, sharper than they should be, a cruel pattern made for crunching and tearing even when they know better than to give in) and there he is behind them. Smug and unsatisfied all at once. Their favorite ghost. 

“What is it you saw that convinced you?” they say to the mirror, acutely aware of the movement of their jaw and tongue. 

_ What made you so sure I had once been something other than beast?  _

_ What gave you certainty that you could c̵u̸t̶ ̴i̴t̷ ̸o̶û̶̬̠t̷̞͕͎͒̌͝ ̶͎͍̾̾̈́o̷͓͋̀̀f̵̨͓͍̀ ̵̨̯͐̿m̸̹̣͛̅é̷̩?̶̠̱́̌̾ _

He does not move, does not haunt with a poltergeist’s flair, but his eyes are dull and overly bright like a flashlight with a dirtied lens. They follow them everywhere. No matter what, he would watch his beast with every ounce of attention he has ever had. 

There is no escape even after his death, nor are there answers to all the questions he planted inside each and every ilm of their body. Each one of them had been a seed, patient and dormant, that suddenly burst forth after being watered by the taste of his blood and the feel of his skin bruising beneath their hands. 

He sees what is invisible to them, but never gives them answers or description. From over their shoulder, they see him smile slowly. It’s nearly like a knife being drawn across his face, carving a semblance of happiness into it. They can see dried blood on his lips. 

“Go away,” they demand, closing their eyes and turning away. He isn’t truly there, never has been, but even the smallest things remind them of him—the feel of a better weapon beneath their palms, the thrill of hunting S marks without assistance, the  _ euphoria  _ of feeling their attacks strike true and tear through the fabric of their opponent’s mortality. 

They don’t like to kill, not really, but they like to  _ win.  _ They like to be the best, the strongest, the wildest, the  _ untameable.  _ They want to stand on that heavenly stage once more if just for the illusion that they cannot be controlled. It’s escapism in its most volatile form, kept just barely out of reach by a reality that holds their chain with an iron grip. Hydaelyn would not give up Her favorite Champion so easily.

When they look into the mirror again, he’s gone. Their odd fixation is not, though, and they find themself grinding their teeth absently, wishing there was something else there. 

(Wishing they were crushing down on his throat, tearing into him to find the answers he denies them, and feeling his blood fill their mouth and the hole within their heart they fail to ignore.)

But for now, they content themselves with the idea that they were a man, once, and were not born so beastly. It is a paltry comfort (and a bold-faced lie) but they repeat it until they feel numb and it begins to not ring false. 

Zenos may have made them into a beast, but they were better than his prey. They smile one last time, bright and cheery at the mirror, and if they show off a few too many teeth, they don’t even notice.

**Author's Note:**

> im returning to my roots with feral zenohika


End file.
